David looked at her in surprise. This was the first he’d heard of a flat. Or rather, he was aware that Annabel’s father owned half a dozen desirable places dotted about Mayfair, Chelsea and St John’s Wood, but they had never even discussed moving in together, let alone pinpointed a specific place.
‘Lovely,’ said Camilla with undisguised envy. ‘I’d die to be in Chelsea. Bruce and I have been looking at Fulham, haven’t we, darling? Until he gets all that pupillage stuff out of the way.’
Bruce had the decency to look as uncomfortable as David felt. ‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘That’s the plan anyway.’
‘Going to try and find another bottle of red,’ said David suddenly, standing up. Annabel looked meaningfully at his almost full glass, then gave a tight shake of the head. ‘Bruce? Millie? No? Won’t be a tick.’
He strode across the hall, swerving around the identical long tables of young couples in ball gowns and white tie, all discussing the same things, all heading in the same proscribed arcs. He felt crushed, as if the gravity in the room had doubled.
Out in the quad, he headed to the bar.
‘Vodka,’ he said to the barman, pulling a tenner from his pocket. ‘Make it a double, yeah?’
He flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned. Annabel, a look of concern on her face. ‘Everything all right, darling?’
‘No, not really. I don’t appreciate being ambushed like that.’
‘Ambushed? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Don’t play the innocent. All that stuff about your brother’s flat in Chelsea?’
‘What’s the matter with that? I thought you’d appreciate a decent place after living in that fleapit with Max.’
‘It’s not the place, Bel. It’s the fact that you’re making decisions about my life without even consulting me.’
She pouted. ‘So you don’t want to live with me now?’
‘Don’t try and turn this around. It’s not about us, it’s about blindsiding me in front of your stupid friends before we’ve even talked about it.’
‘And now you don’t like Bruce and Millie?’
David glanced back towards the dining hall. ‘They’re fine,’ he said without much enthusiasm.
‘Fine? These are my friends.’
‘Come on, Bella. You only tolerate Bruce because his father is in the same club as your father.’
‘Well I’m sorry if he’s not as exotic as some of your new friends.’
Her tone needled him.
‘Exotic?’
Annabel didn’t respond.
‘I hope you don’t mean Amy.’
‘Well I did hear she might be serving us wine later.’
The smug look on Annabel’s face confirmed everything he’d suspected about her attitude to ‘other people’, her term for anyone who didn’t come from exactly the same background as her.
‘And Amy being a waitress is wrong how exactly? Because she’s working rather than getting pissed? Or because work is inherently distasteful?’
‘Oh don’t be so silly,’ said Annabel, flapping a hand. ‘Work is fine in the right context.’
‘Working for Daddy’s firm is fine, I suppose. Whereas working in a factory or an office is not.’
‘Are you calling me a snob, David?’